


overdramatic and true

by LightOverDarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hugs, It is now, Kissing, Lightbulbs, Muggle Technology, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Sad Sirius Black, Sirius black is dramatic, also there is a little bit of, discussions of eyeliner and lightbulbs, he is lying on a table and making snarky remarks about lightbulbs, is that a tag?, probably too much crying so, siriusly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightOverDarkness/pseuds/LightOverDarkness
Summary: “I was going to do some reading before bed, but your lamp needs a new lightbulb,” she tells Sirius, who is lying on the tabletop and staring at the ceiling.“I don’t think my family would stoop low enough to use Muggle devices like electric lightbulbs,” he says flatly. He doesn’t look at her. Of course he doesn’t. He’s full of hurt right now; this is the first time he’s been back to this place in almost twenty years.She scoots onto the table and sits next to him, tucking her legs under her. “Heya. You okay?”He’s not.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	overdramatic and true

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about half an hour on a grey evening when I should have been doing homework. Somehow I think it turned out ok.

How long has this room been empty? Twelve? Thirteen years? More than that, certainly.

She pauses in the doorway and stares at it for a long time, until her vision is blurred by tears. This house shouldn’t have been abandoned and forgotten. This isn’t right. Of course, nothing was ever quite right in this house.

She was going to keep on down the hall, explore some other rooms, but she stops here, stuck in her footsteps by the deja vu. So, she enters, tentatively.

The bed is still made up, untouched since the day he dashed from the house. But it’s rumpled, too, and she can almost see back to that night, almost imagine his skinny stormy sixteen-year-old self barging in, slamming the door, crashing onto the bed and sobbing. The pillows are sunken and covered in dust, the quilt a grayer version of the red and green blocking pattern it once had been.

She slides her hand up one of the bedposts and sits, resting her head against the wood. There’s a lot to think about.

Tonight she’ll sleep here, she decides. She’s already made up several of the beds here for the rest of the Order with the spare sheets and blankets she brought. They’ll all arrive tomorrow. Tonight it’s just Sirius, and Remus, and her.

Standing, she strips the bed with a wave of her wand and watches as the dusty sheets fold themselves into the corner of the room. From her bottomless bag, she extracts some new, clean ones, and they stretch themselves over the mattress as a quilt and some new pillows follow suit. There, that’s better. As an afterthought, she unpacks her robe and nightgown as well, changing quickly. Her watch says it’s after 8 pm. Better go to sleep early tonight, then. Tomorrow’s going to be an exciting and busy day.

It’s been a long time since she’s been in here. Nothing has really changed except for the dust. Walls are still covered in a teen’s obsessions, drawers still half-open, books and papers scattered over an unused desk. Curious as to what kind of papers they are, she holds one up to the light, and a smile breaks out over her face. Of course! She can barely read the handwriting because of the bad light, but it is recognizable.

Sirius was never one to save homework for his few visits back to Grimmauld Place, but one of those long past Christmas hols, they’d sat together on the floor of his room to try and collaborate on a Muggle History paper. Neither of them knew too much about Muggle Wars, but they’d done their best. The evening hadn’t been exactly as productive as they’d planned, but it had been fun. And the paper had been long forgotten on the now-dusty nightstand.

The wardrobe is shut. So is the window. It’s too dark to see at this point, shadows creeping along the floor and spreading from the corners of the room, and the gloom is almost too much to bear, so she stands and opens the curtain. She wrinkles her nose at the dust, and searches the rest of the room for a lamp or candle or other light source.

There’s a switch by the door, and she flips it on, but the light is dim and does nothing but annoy her eyes. It needs to be changed. She leaves it on and makes her way down to the dining room. Remus must have gone ahead and turned in for the night, because there’s only one person in the room. She doesn’t blame him, he’s been tired all day.

“I was going to do some reading before bed, but your lamp needs a new lightbulb,” she tells Sirius, who is lying on the tabletop and staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t think my family would stoop low enough to use Muggle devices like electric lightbulbs,” he says flatly. He doesn’t look at her. Of course he doesn’t. He’s full of hurt right now; this is the first time he’s been back to this place in almost twenty years.

She scoots onto the table and sits next to him, tucking her legs under her. “Heya. You okay?”

He’s not.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” he lies, and turns his face away.

“Sirius.”

“I hated living here.”

“I know that. I never really liked it here either.”

Sirius gestures broadly, swinging his arm at the ceiling. “It’s too dark.”

“Maybe, I don’t know, that’s because you guys were above lightbulbs?”

He grins at her tiredly. “Ha.” Sitting up, he swings his legs over the table’s edge and scoots a bit closer to her. “I was joking. We have a couple in a cupboard somewhere. Thomas Edison wasn’t a pureblood, but he went to Hogwarts, so my parents begrudgingly allowed some of his magically inspired muggle devilry.”

She scoffs. “How very tolerant and permissive of them.”

“The lamp in my room is electric.”

“I know, that’s why I came down here. It’s gonna blow soon and I didn’t want your ghost to come and haunt me in the dark of your room.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not dead yet!”

She leans against him and wraps him in her arms. “Oh, shut up. I hate that we’re this jaded and depressed. We’re too young to be joking about death and darkness.”

“We’re thirty-three. I spent my youth in prison and you’ve been fighting dark magic since then. We have every right to be jaded and depressed.”

She stretches her legs out and lets go of him. “We’re back together now, though. Doesn’t that count?”

This elicits a smile. He looks at her eyes, and sees that they still hold hope. “We are, aren’t we?” It’s tentative. It’s almost a whisper.

When she blinks, she has to wipe at her eyes because she’s started crying without even noticing. To hide her face, she pulls him into a tight hug and he holds her so tightly she forgets to breathe. She’d stop crying if she could, but she finds it impossible, so she lets herself sob into his shoulder for a second. And when she lets him go at last, he’s got tears in his eyes too.

They sit facing each other on the tabletop, sniffling a little bit until he begins to chuckle, and then they’re both laughing at the ridiculous, ridiculous circumstances, trying not to snort with the absolute hilarity of it all. She wipes at her eyes and doesn’t know which emotion brought the tears this time. Her hand comes away with a dark smear, and she groans.

“You messed up your eyeliner,” says Sirius with humour in his voice, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m crying, give me a break! Besides, you had an eyeliner year yourself.”

His eyes widen. “Oh Merlin. You’re right!” He claps a hand to his eyes, groaning. “I’d forgotton about that!”

She grins. “Sixth year.”

“Come on, I’d just moved out. I was free to be myself. Everyone experiments.”

Now she’s almost cackling. “Not with eyeliner, they don’t! Tell me, Sirius, whose did you steal first, Lily’s or mine?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it was Marlene's, actually.”

Her expression softens at the mention of her best friend. “Marlene McKinnon! Seriously?”

He nods, grinning, but a bit embarrassed. “Moony got it off her on a dare. I gave it back, though.”

She hops off the table. “After memorizing the brand name and directions, I assume.”

“Of course.”

Sirius makes his way over to the cupboard and reaches up to the top shelf. “Here are the lightbulbs. I’ll come help you put them back in.”

The light in his room has completely gone out by the time they reach it, so she uses her wand to illuminate the room as he replaces the bulb.

“How many wizards does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” he asks with a grin, and she wrinkles her nose at him. “Oh, there we go.”

He flips the switch, and the room is bright once more. “Goodness. I haven’t seen this place in forever.”

She shrugs. “They didn’t really touch it.”

“How kind” There is a bitterness in his voice that insinuates he doesn’t want to talk about his late family. So she points to the desk, at the old essay they’d attempted. It’s still covered in dust.

“Remember when we wrote this?” She picks it up and laughs. “Some quality writing here.”

“Let me see!” He takes it from her, curious. “Oh, this old thing!” Looking up, he shakes his head. “Did we know anything back then?”

She shrugs. “We knew how to waste time, obviously. I don’t think we ever finished this.”

“We didn’t. Prongs ended up having to write mine.” He places the paper back on the desk. “I miss him so much, you know?”

She nods. “Yeah. I do too. I miss Lily, too. So, so much.”

“I still can’t believe…”

“I know.”

He wraps her in his arms and rests his chin on her head. Silence falls. A deep breath. She looks up, trying desperately to see the good in the sorrow. “Harry is perfectly like both of them, though, isn’t he?”

He smiles sadly. “Those eyes. The hair.”

“I suppose, in a way, they’re still with us,” she says, and he nods emphatically.

“I believe that. I believe that without a doubt. I told Harry the ones who love us never really leave us.”

She laughs quietly and rests her head on his chest. “So now you’re spouting wisdom. How very out of character.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I am the MOST eloquent man,” protests Sirius. He tickles her without warning, and she cracks up, spinning out of his arms.

They chase each other about the room for a bit, laughing and teasing, and it’s just like old times again. There’s real joy in the room, real happiness and relief. It’s good to pretend to be kids once more, to indulge in some of the hilarity of youth that they lost so much of.

After a while, they collapse on the bed, still panting and laughing hysterically. Breathless, she pulls him to her and kisses him, hard. It feels good, it feels late. Too much time has gone by since they were this happy.

“I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you more than you could ever know.” She presses their foreheads together. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again and now…”

“I… I honestly think we made it,” he says, hesitantly.

They both smile.

She kisses him again. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he says after a while, “we should probably get some sleep before tomorrow. Hit the lights, will you?”

She stretches and yawns, rather like a cat. “You haven’t changed for bed yet.”

He shrugs with a smirk. “I’ll get out of these eventually.”

She sits bolt upright. “Oh,” says she, and with a swish of her wand, the lights are out.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, our poor dear Sirius Black. We've seen too many fics of him with OC's, so I left this one unnamed just so as to focus on the real subject, Sirius trying to deal with his memories of living at No. 12 and failing terribly. We love him, though. We all do.


End file.
